Who: Fever, Helena, and those threading with them What:January non-event things. When: All month. Where: Across the isle. Warning(s): To be noted in threads individually
Shaking it, there's the rattle of things tucked away. And she looks up at her father, feeling words crawl into her mouth on the myriad tiny feet of caterpillars.
"...I'm scared."
Only he gets to hear that. Only here, where no one else is, when a box full of dreams is catastrophically frightening as a prospect. If what is there is what she thinks, it might hurt someone, might drag her back down into the river until she can't breathe. If it isn't what she thinks, it'll be impossibly fragile. Impossible to hold with these hands of hers, that break so much of what she touches.
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"...I'm scared."
Only he gets to hear that. Only here, where no one else is, when a box full of dreams is catastrophically frightening as a prospect. If what is there is what she thinks, it might hurt someone, might drag her back down into the river until she can't breathe. If it isn't what she thinks, it'll be impossibly fragile. Impossible to hold with these hands of hers, that break so much of what she touches.